“‘I mean that this affair from beginning to end appears to me like a case of arrant flirtation, to say the least of it—such a case as you would find it rather inconvenient to have blazoned through the world: especially with the additions and exaggerations of your female rivals, who would be too glad to publish the matter, if I only gave them a handle to it. But I promise you, on the faith of a gentleman, that no word or syllable that could tend to your prejudice shall ever escape my lips, provided you will—’ “‘Well, well, I won’t mention it,’ said I. ‘You may rely upon my silence, if that can afford you any consolation.’ “‘You promise it?’ “‘Yes,’ I answered; for I wanted to get rid of him now. “‘Farewell, then!’ said he, in a most doleful, heart-sick tone; and with a look where pride vainly struggled against despair, he turned and went away: longing, no doubt, to get home, that he might shut himself up in his study and cry—if he doesn’t burst into tears before he gets there.” “But you have broken your promise already,” said I, truly horrified at her perfidy. “Oh! it’s only to you; I know you won’t repeat it.” “Certainly, I shall not: but you say you are going to tell your sister; and she will tell your brothers when they come home, and Brown immediately, if you do not tell her yourself; and Brown will blazon it, or be the means of blazoning it, throughout the country.” “No, indeed, she won’t. We shall not tell her at all, unless it be under the promise of the strictest secrecy.” “But how can you expect her to keep her promises better than her more enlightened mistress?” “Well, well, she shan’t hear it then,” said Miss Murray, somewhat snappishly. “But you will tell your mamma, of course,” pursued I; “and she will tell your papa.” “Of course I shall tell mamma—that is the very thing that pleases me so much. I shall now be able to convince her how mistaken she was in her fears about me.” “Oh, _that’s_ it, is it? I was wondering what it was that delighted you so much.” “Yes; and another thing is, that I’ve humbled Mr. Hatfield so charmingly; and another—why, you must allow me some share of female vanity: I don’t pretend to be without that most essential attribute of our sex—and if you had seen poor Hatfield’s intense eagerness in making his ardent declaration and his flattering proposal, and his agony of mind, that no effort of pride could conceal, on being refused, you would have allowed I had some cause to be gratified.” “The greater his agony, I should think, the less your cause for gratification.”